


Hell's Angel

by AliceMarylin1999



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Bikers, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Feral Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Funny, M/M, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22100326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMarylin1999/pseuds/AliceMarylin1999
Summary: Aziraphale goes feral and buys a Harley Davidson bike. As if it wasn't enough, he challenges a local MC president to riding tournament after he recklessly mocks Aziraphale's look...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	Hell's Angel

"What. The Heaven. Is this", Crowley managed to say, while looking at strangely vintage-looking Harley Davidson bike.

They were out of the city, in the middle of nowhere, and the angel was presenting him with the Harley, of all things.

"It's Oscar", Aziraphale answered with the most angelic smile he was capable of, which, under different circumstances, would've made Crowley's heart melt. Now it just made Crowley more scared.

"So that's what this leather jacket thing was about?", he raised his brow. Aziraphale was wearing a light brown leather jacket, which, in retrospect, should've made Crowley suspicious days ago. He foolishly believed it was all about pleasing Crowley and his fondness for the angel in leather which they both have recently discovered.

"It is a BEAST, my dear", Aziraphale went on with an enthusiastic smile. " I was so very lucky to make this deal. The previous owner, sadly, could no longer ride, due to some illness... Anyway, I managed to make us both very happy. Him with the money, me - with Oscar"

"So... You bought a Harley", Crowley was desperately trying to make sense of it all - "You name it after your... Former... Someone, Oscar Wilde... You dress up in leather... And you brought me a helmet"

"You are very bright, dear boy", Aziraphale smiled smugly, putting on a helmet. " And now it's the time we do a test drive. Put on a helmet, love"

"Have you joined any MC yet? Hell's Angels?", Crowley said sarcastically, not willing to show his true emotion - fear - "We now have Hell and Heaven off our backs, it's time to push guns and drugs for a change"

Aziraphale was not impressed.

"You should be ashamed of your prejudice, Crowley", he said, making himself comfortable on the front seat. " Ninety-nine percent of bikers are law-abiding citizens. As for Hell's Angels, that's a bit obvious, don't you think? I might as well found my own club"

"Yeah, I bet you might... President", Crowley murmured, trying to fit properly on the backseat.

And when he thought this could not get any worse, he heard a familiar sound of a dozen bikes approaching.

They were all wearing the same cuts, but he could not make anything coherent of the letters. They stopped right in front of them.

"Oi!", shouted a man with a half-red half-white beard, the first one to lead, with a heavy Irish accent, taking his sunglasses off. "Are you sure you know how to ride this?"

The group laughed.

"I am sure I can take care of myself and my companion, gentlemen. Thank you for your concern", Aziraphale said calmly with a smile. Only Crowley knew him too well to not recognize how furious the angel was.

"Companion?", the man found the word amusing. "I never thought I'd find a pair of such Nancy boys as yourselves riding a Harley in my neighborhood"

His subjects found this amusing as well, as they followed the statement with wild laughter.

"Angel, don't", Crowley whispered in Aziraphale's ear.

"Either grab me really tight or climb off, Crowley", Aziraphale answered. Crowley could see the determination in his eyes and knew all too well that speaking reason was futile now. "Things are about to get fast and hot"

"I hope you know what the Hell you're doing", he muttered, pressing himself tighter to the angel's back.

"I tell you what, gentlemen", Aziraphale declared loudly. "How about we make this highway our racing distance? We start together, and every maneuver is allowed. Anything to make the other lose his balance. The first one to fall from his bike loses". He threw a displeased look over the gang. " And gives up his leather"

Holy SHITE, Crowley thought, but couldn't speak a word. Sure, they both possessed supernatural powers, and could easily be done with some old prick, but still... Crowley was used to be in charge of a vehicle. Sitting on the backseat made him itch with nerves.

"Right", the man nodded, not laughing now. " That sounds easy."

"Oh, it will be, sir", Aziraphale said with a smile. Then he turned over and kissed Crowley forcefully on the lips, which was a bit tricky, given the two helmets. "Just not for you. I'm ready"

"Aye, me too", the other man said. 

This will end either in discorporation, or in a very interesting evening back home, Crowley thought.

Crowley refused to give up his place by the angel's side. If they go down, they go down together. And on top of things, he didn't want his angel to think that he was a craven. Despite all the terror he felt...

Another man, with long black hair, stood on the side of the road.

" You ready?", he asked.

"I am", answered Aziraphale.

"Ready", the Irish man said.

The black-haired man shot in the air, and Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale in a steel grip.

That proved to be a wise decision in a fraction of seconds. Angel raced forward with unnatural speed, and before Crowley adjusted to this sort of turmoil, the bike leaned on the right, where the other biker was, and they were inches ahead of him. Crowley expected the crash, but the angel taxied to the left immediately. They were riding a goddamn Harley, not a sportbike, how the Hell Aziraphale managed to make this sort of maneuver? Crowley heard the braked behind them. The Irishman was certainly starting to lose his balance.

“We’re almost there, Crowley!”, Aziraphale yelled. Crowley didn’t know what he was supposed to feel – thrill or terror, but he felt both in equal measure.

They leaned on the right more abruptly now, and for a glimpse, Crowley thought they were going to fall over. That didn’t happen, but he did hear a loud squeal of brakes and cursing. As they regained their balance, Aziraphale slowed down the bike.

“I hope you didn’t kill him”, Crowley commented grimly, as he was trying to get off the Harley. His legs were shaking treacherously, as well as his hands, and there was no miracle to ease that. Aziraphale, on the other hand, seemed calm as ever.

“I doubt there was any lethal damage. Everything else, we can manage”, he said, taking off his helmet.

“Not only a deadly biker, but a poet on top of that. I must be really one lucky bastard”, Crowley murmured, as they both approached their contender, lying on the ground. The man seemed to be breathing. The bike, though…

“Crowley, dear, would you mind taking look at the motorcycle?”, Aziraphale said, smiling fondly. Crowley had no energy or will to argue, so he just did what he was told to do, fixing the broken glass and a couple of bent metal elements – he was a top mechanic for his own Bentley, but a Harley bike was a complete terra incognita for him – and hoped he was doing it right. Meanwhile, Aziraphale was towering over his rival, probably healing his broken ribs and bruises. The angel was easy forgiving, and, above all, merciful. That made Crowley smile, as he fell a rush of warmth inside himself.

“So, my good sir”, Aziraphale said, as he helped the man back on his feet. “I haven’t asked for your name. Mine is… Fell. That’s what everyone calls me. My second name, it is”

“Connor Ryan”, the man said, grunting. “The president of the Devil’s Rooks Motorcycle Club, Brighton Charter. Do you have any Irish ancestors, Fell? A grandmother, at least?”

“No, I’m afraid, not”, Aziraphale smiled politely.

“Well, as a rule, we recruit fellow Irishmen, but I see an exception here”, Connor said. “If you want to join the MC, I can arrange that, and even make your time as a prospect just a formality. I’ve been riding since 14 years old, and I’m nearly 60 now, so I trust my judgment pretty well, I know a good rider when I see one”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite ready to join any club just yet, Mr. Ryan”, Aziraphale smiled. “I have a rather busy schedule”

Crowley snorted on that remark. Yeah, the angel’s schedule was a busy one indeed…

“What do you do for a living?”, Connor asked. “If you’re afraid we’re some gang, I can assure you…”

“No, no, no”, Aziraphale stopped him. “I am absolutely sure you run some nice legitimate business. I own a bookshop in London, a collection of rare books and first editions, and it requires a lot of time and attention”. Aziraphale threw a quick glance on Crowley, who was smirking mockingly at the notion, and the glance was not a particularly kind one.

“Oh, I see”, Connor sighed, and took his cut off. “Here, as promised”. He handed the cut over to Aziraphale.

Angel’s face was beaming with delight. The bastard just loves to win, Crowley thought fondly.

“Here is my address and phone number”, Connor said, handing Aziraphale a card. “If you need anything, just call me. Good?”

“Of course”, Aziraphale nodded. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Ryan”.

After they shook hands and the club president finally took off with all his attendants, Aziraphale exhaled loudly and unzipped his jacket. Underneath the leather, he was wearing his usual beige coat, a blue shirt, and a bowtie. It was as ridiculous, as it was endearing.

“So, what now?”, Crowley asked, putting his hands on the hips. “We go home for lunch, or get you inked up first? What about my naked body on your right shoulder, and “Crowley” in cursive? What? I heard bikers ink up their “old ladies” all the time…”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together, tilting his head slightly on the side.

“I don’t buy it that you didn’t enjoy the ride, Crowley”, he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Maybe, I did. A little”, Crowley surrendered. “But now I’m going to enjoy a couple of drinks”

“That is fine, my dear”, Aziraphale smiled. “Let’s go get some dinner and go back to the bookshop. I am indeed a bit exhausted myself…”

Crowley was about to put his helmet back on, when Aziraphale stopped him, taking his hand gently.

“What?”, Crowley froze.

Aziraphale leaned closer and kissed him on the lips/

“I love you so much, dear. You give me the strength to be myself”

“I can see that”, Crowley said, while brushing his thumb against Aziraphale’s cheek, and looking longingly in his eyes. “Hell’s angel”


End file.
